Weakness
by ramble40
Summary: Feanor recalls the first time he met Nerdanel as he leaves Aman with his sons. Just some thoughts.


I love Feanor. He scares me.

I own nothing. Just love Tolkien

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~oOo~

It is your betrayal I will always remember the most. You, the only other being who I considered my equal. You, whose own spirit was the only match for mine, your quest for knowledge rivaling my own. You, who I desired above all else. And yet your treachery surprised me the least.

You were a child when I first saw you, at your father's forge covered in soot and constantly underfoot. You were dressed in boy's breeches and your hair was tied in strange knots atop your head. You had a smile that seemed to stretch too far across your ruddy face, your voice bothersome and your laugh braying to my ears. You interrupted and critiqued, your opinion neither asked for nor wanted.

"You are doing it wrong little prince!"

The insolence was infuriating. I would often find myself wishing we were alone so I could hold your head in the water tank.

But oh, how your father doted on you. It was unseemly enough your presence at the forge, a child and a female. But to see you working the bellows, working the forge to a white heat as your father welded the iron, was considered nothing short of shocking. But you did not care. And he encouraged you, teaching you right alongside me, much to my consternation. I resented your presence. You took away from my time. Like so many other unwanted women in my life, you were a distraction to those around me. I wanted nothing to do with you. And when I took to my wanderings for a short time, I had my wish.

I took several years away from the Mansions of Aulë. I would wander the woods of Oromë and past the pastures of Yavanna, to the most southern point of the Pelori mountains. I had been told there was no pass through the mountains to the sea, except for Calacirya, and with all the confidence and vanity of youth, I set out to cross them. It was in these travels unbeknownst to me, that you would invade my sanctuary yet again.

I had reached the foot of the mountains and was planning my ascent when I saw you. You were perched atop a rock face watching me, amusement and curiosity on your plain face. And I must admit I was curious as well for I had not yet discovered it was you.

I climbed to where you sat, your back relaxed against the rock, one leg dangling over the edge. It was a precarious climb and I was impressed that someone would attempt it, much less succeed. When I reached you, you smiled and familiarity tugged at the back of my mind. But when you spoke, I knew.

"Careful little prince, I do not plan on carrying you home."

The insolence was infuriating . . . and that laugh.

If I could have left your presence immediately I would have. But the climb had not been easy and the descent looked just as difficult. And so I found myself sitting next to you perched atop a rock face, looking over the fields of Yavanna to the Isle of Estë. You had your sketch book with you and as we shared our rations I found myself admiring your work. Your skill was already impressive for one so young and would only improve with age. When I told you this you laughed and reminded me I was not as old as I would have you believe. Insolence.

As the hour grew late you offered your camp to me. I found that somewhat forward and said as much. You simply shrugged and shimmied off across the narrow ledge to the flat landing you had found along the face. I followed you.

After a brief reprieve we pushed on and, although I would never admit it, I struggled occasionally to keep up. Your feet and hands smaller than mine were able to grip the tiniest nooks and crannies. You would scurry up the sheer mountainside, finding an area to drop a line for me for I could not continue at times without your aid. While at other times you would look to me for an arm or a lift up when you could go no further. Together we reached the apex. And as we stood at the highest point I asked you why you would do such a reckless thing as this. You looked at me and laughingly said, "Because they told me I could not."

Insolence . . . but I did not find it as infuriating as before.

I smiled as you laughed.

We traveled many more times like this, covering the far reaches of Aman together. You studied everything you saw, a hunger for knowledge of all things great and small, an understanding of anything unknown. And when I returned to forges of Mahtan, l looked for you at the bellows and sought out your counsel. Whenever I found something vexing to the point of implosion, you would calmly find the misstep in my method, laughing but never mocking.

"Some things you cannot force in to submission little prince."

I admired your passion for your work, your eye for detail. The way you would immerse yourself, lost to all around, your focus fine and honed. When you worked the stone you were commanding and strong and unapologetic in your fervor. Your skills were unmatced. And try as I might, and I did try, I could never find the flaws. When I took to traveling again, you did not always join me, wanting to go your own way, alone, unafraid and independent. I would become bitter about this and you would shrug and tell me any affront I may feel was my own doing, not yours. And I was all the more angry for I knew it was true. And when you were gone, I found I missed your laugh.

When I would return home to visit my beloved father, his court became more tedious than before to me. And while I loved him dearly, I counted the days when I would return to the forge. The women of the court mewling and fawning over their false queen. They were insipid and dull. Never looking further than their own vanities and those being neither extraordinary nor accomplished. They had no understanding of things and nor did they desire too. Happy in their ignorance of the world around them, accepting of whatever they were told, never questioning what it is that they may, or may not, see. I laughed as I thought of them dressed in boys breeches and climbing the Hyarmentir with me or daring to look into the Avathar's dark shadows. They could not challenge me. They did not have your irreverence, your curiosity, your thirst for knowledge. They did not have your insolence. It was in that moment when I began to miss more than your laugh.

You came to court for festival, your father bringing many great works in honor of mine. The vacuous members of the court would marvel at his works and the plainness of his daughter and I thought I may strike them for their callousness, for it was your presence that was the greatest gift, releasing me from the banality of my surroundings. When I was finally able to find you alone, you were in the main courtyard, wading around the fountain. Your skirts hiked up in a most indecent manner, your face flushed and your hair dewy from the moisture. But you did not care. The stone work on the fountain was lacking and you were more than pleased to tell me.

"Your house has many nice things little prince, but mine are much nicer."

I would watch you at your fathers forge, covered in sweat and grime unconcerned about either. I envied your focus because I found that I could no longer do so around you. And when you stopped coming to the forge I thought I might go mad for our excursions had become few of late, with you spending more time on your own interests. So I looked for you, finding you in your studio. You stood there, chisel and rasp in hand and covered in dust, as if you were waiting for me. I turned to your latest creation and was silent because for a moment I thought I was looking at a younger version of my father. His head was lowered and his brows furrowed in thought. But then I saw the apron and smithy's hammer and knew it was not my father but my own reflection before me. When I turned back to you I wondered how anyone could consider you plain. How could they not see the beauty that burned in your mind? It was blinding to me and it was in that moment I knew that I wanted you. I should have taken you in my arms there, but I hesitated, for the first time feeling fear, my pride refusing to let me experience even the possibility of rejection. But you just looked at me and smiled.

"I think I understand you my prince."

And then you walked over and pressed your lips to mine.

We were wed shortly after for I would not wait any longer than necessary. We were told we were too young, we were told we were being hasty but I knew there would be no other and I would have you, with their blessings or not. And when we were finally joined, our fëa becoming one, you sat astride me, your head thrown back against the sky calling out to Ilúvatar to bless this union I grabbed you and pulled you back to me. I had found my equal. We needed no one but each other.

I will not blame you entirely for your unsteadiness. You had given birth to seven sons, your hröa weakened and fëa weary. Aulë easily cozened you, turning you against your husband and sons. You were too feeble to see their deceit, to wasted to stand up to their power. Your abandonment of your family was encouraged even by your own father. No, this treachery does not surprise me for one could easily see it coming. But I know you. I know your mind and body and would have fed your fëa with the fires of my own if you would have but stood by your family. In your heart you know I am right but choose to let others decide because of your debilitated spirit. And because of your choosing weakness over right, I will leave you not one of your sons behind. I leave you nothing. And when we return victorious, silmarils in hand, you will see your folly and it will be too late. For I will have turned away from you, from your weakness, no longer my equal.


End file.
